I know I've been absent yet again, but every time I want to post, another shooting happens or some political b.s. happens and I feel too sad to post, or what I have to say seems  trivial in comparison.  I don't want to dwell on those things. I don't want to ignore those things, either. I have to let those things go and allow those thing to inform my world view as I move forward with my own stories.

I'm going to my 35th high school reunion tonight.  I'm going with one of my dear friends who I've been able to reconnect with since my folks moved back to Jefferson City.  We're going to get together ahead of time to primp and talk and reminisce about things.  We'll probably gossip a little and dish about things, but ultimately we're just looking forward to seeing familiar faces and catching up about were life has brought us.

I've read and re-read the list of classmates attending and read statements of regret from those who can't make it.  But I think I've been most affected by the  list of fellow classmates who have passed away.  It's a long list for a mid to small size class.  I counted 29 names and that doesn't include people who can't be located.

I knew of a few of these deaths. Facebook has allowed us to know more about each other and even allow us to share in the journey through illness and death. But a couple of name through me into some serious soul-searching.  One roof these was a girl named Nancy H.  I remember her mostly from grade school.  She was in my class when we moved to J.C. from St. Louis.  She was a skinny redhead with a short choppy hair cut and freckles, and most notably, a pair of glasses  magnifying her eyes and obscuring her face and encompassing the definition of Coke bottle lenses.

She was the kid at the bottom of the heap. Chosen last in games on the playground, mocked for attempt to be accepted and probably alone at the lunch table in the cafeteria.  I say probably because in my normal egocentric way, I was w a y to busy worrying about my own place on the popularity scale and never really noticed.

Whenever she was the brunt of the collective derisive grade school cruelty, I didn't feel for her.  I was just happy it wasn't me.
I lost track of her in junior high and high school.  My guess is that she stayed on the bottom rung of the social ladder, flying under the radar, trying to stay invisible rather than allowing herself to be hurt by rejection.  Maybe she's had a job or went to church or found her social life outside of the school.  I'll probably never find out much about her.  The one obituary I found revealed that she was survived by her brothers and was an avid reader.  My guess is that she would have had no reason or desire to come to this reunion.  And if she wasn't on the list of people who have died, I seriously doubt that her absence would have been noticed by me or anyone, really.

But seeing her name made me think about how ridiculous my own high school angst was.  I was a blue eyed blonde in a world that values blue eyed blondes.  I have a loving, intact two parent family.  I had enough intelligence and support to know I would be able to move on in life.  I was one of the lucky ones.  I remain one of the lucky ones.

Nancy's grade school crime was being born in the wrong body.  I don't blame myself or any of us for how things played out in those days.  We were kids being kids. But I wish Nancy was around  so I could apologize for not seeing her humanity.  For allowing her to be seen as less worthy.  For not being able to let her know that she deserved respect and positive attention.  She deserved love

So to anyone from my class (or really any class anywhere) who feels undeserving of the love and power and protection that comes with those things, I'm sorry for my part in creating those feeling.  You were always beautiful.  You were always worthy.  You were always loved.

Happy 35th reunion!